Gun Powder
by Caleb Turner
Summary: My 6th grade story of how a man tries to save his son.


Caleb Turner

December 14, 2010

Short story paper

"Gun powder"

The cold Nevada moon just emphasized the chilly blackness of the desert at night. Ace "The Chase" Blackmon was appreciating the serenity of it. Because, after all the chaos of the past day, it feels almost weird to relax. He wanted to sleep but he knew he couldn't. He had to keep moving. The dryness in his throat swelled, and he knew he had to get water. Ace was approaching the town of Hawthorne when a loud crack was heard and a whizzing zig went past his head. Pulling out his own Colt .45 pistols, he looked around.

"Get out of your hidin' spot, ya yellowed belly!" screamed Ace. Another voice started airing his lungs out at Ace. Two more bullets whizzed passed. Ace saw a glimmer of silver behind a barrel, and immediately he emptied his strongside Colt on him. Ace walked over to the body and saw his "Deputy" badge.

"Dag nabbit!" exclaimed Ace, "I done killed the deputy!" Then he realized that the deputy must have recognized him from his wanted poster. Add another one to the dead list, he thought.

That night he shaved his mustache, cut his hair and changed into different clothes. As Ace laid down that night, he couldn't help but feel he was being watched. His sleep was troubled as he remembered the past day.

"Uggh…" groaned Ace. Then a voice said, "wake up Ace, wake up! Ace…wake up!"

"I'm getting up, you little devil!" Ace said sleepily.

"Ace, get up now! Your son Jesse got into a fight with some gang, so he took your Springfield and now is in a gunfight with em'!" the kid said.

"What?! Why aren't you out there, Zeke? He is your best friend, ain't he?"

"Well 'o' course, but well… I'm scared!" Zeke replied wimpily.

"Oh man he's just a little guy. Only 5 ½" feet tall! Come on Zeke lets get moving. Before Jesse…" Ace cut himself off before he considered the possibilities. He took out both of his Colt .45's and gave Zeke his old Winchester. Already he could hear pings and thwongs of lead hitting other materials.

All Ace wanted and hoped for was to not hear the agonizing scream of a 16-year old boy. The yells of beatniks, brawlers, and just plain outlaws rang throughout the town. There was a man with a bandana who seemed to be leading this strange assortment of people. Ace saw his son. He was pinned down inside a saloon with the gang surrounding the building. Ace almost cried out in despair. He saw no clear cut way to get to his son, and to rescue him for that matter. He wandered and wandered how to get his son out of this one. Then, he came up with something!

"Zeke, go fetch me some matches, some string, a rock, and a piece of paper. Quick!" barked Ace. When Zeke returned, Ace tied the piece of paper (the piece of paper read: SCREAM WHEN YOU SEE SMOKE) to the rock and threw it into the saloon. Next he took 3 matches, and threw them in the saloon. His plan was that the gang would see the smoke, hear the scream, and assume Jesse was dead. That went horribly wrong when 1 of the matches landed in a barrel of gunpowder.

"Whah, who, wuh?" Ace groggled out as he woke up. He tried to scramble out of his bed but couldn't. Ace realized he wasn't in his bed. He was hog-tied on the floor! He looked around and he noticed he was in a small, cabin-styled room, with only a couple candles for warmth and light.

"Uggh… what is that smell? There was a hint of pig feed mixed with grain and other gross assortments in the air, then he saw it: his lunch.

"Dag, man, really?" Ace sputtered out as he saw this ugly, foul, slaw that was obviously his lunch. It laid next to a filthy bucket of water with dirt intertwined in it. With this information, Ace knew he was being held captive.

Then a dark-haired, burly man came in. He wore a bandana to cover his face. Ace couldn't help but think he looked strangely familiar. When Ace examined him more closely, he realized he had marks all over his body. _Burn_ marks. Dreading what he would see, he looked at the can the man was holding. In was gunpowder. While the man was pouring the gunpowder all around him, Ace tried to scream, cry, or anything, but the sounds just weren't coming out.

The man was just about to light the match when all of a sudden a Springfield rifle went off and the man fell. Through the smoke, Ace could see a dark figure. It was only about 5 ½ feet tall. But when the smoke cleared, the figure had vanished.


End file.
